


a many-colored coat

by ofscythia



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blood and Gore, I promise that they feed the goats eventually, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon, Soulmate AU, Temporary Character Death, You see your first color when you meet your soulmate, and the colors grow as you fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofscythia/pseuds/ofscythia
Summary: Scimitar raised high above his head, Yusuf locks eyes with the Christian invader and gasps.The man below him has red hair.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 34
Kudos: 277





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the start of a series, one I've been thinking about writing for a while!
> 
> new to fic writing - comments much appreciated!

The roar of the battle has deafened Yusuf to all else - gray men and gray horses kicking up gray sand and spilling gray blood. The Christian invaders had taken them by surprise; an ambush on their camp that left them all fighting for their lives. 

A weight crashes into his back and Yusuf goes stumbling into the sand, grunting in surprise at the sudden attack. Blinded by sand, he gropes around behind him until he gets a hold of the attacker’s cloak. Fisting the fabric in his grip, Yusuf pulls hard and rolls, flipping the two of them over until he is perched over the other man. Scimitar raised high above his head, Yusuf locks eyes with the Christian invader and gasps.

The man below him has red hair.

No, it’s not quite red. There must be other colors to it, but instead of nothing but gray Yusuf can now see new and lovely hints of red mixed into his hair. He had never known that someone could have such a lively color on their head - he knows from his mother that his own curls are a deep black. But this color he's never seen before is now everywhere; parts of it in the sand they're lying on, the shade flushed faintly in the man’s lips and cheeks. Compared to a lifetime of different shades of gray, this new color is so bright Yusuf almost has to squint when he looks at it. Beneath him, the other man is frozen as well, a look of panic on his face.

Under any other circumstance, this would be a moment of celebration. A soulmate is a valuable thing; the foundation of one’s life and the only way to see the world in full color. Yusuf has been longing for this day since he became a man, but he never imagined he’d meet his other half like this, that the person he was born to love could be an enemy invader. This is a holy war: right against wrong. There can be no compromise here, not even for the beautiful man looking up at him.

Yusuf tightens his grip on his scimitar, resolved to due his duty to his people and his God, but he feels the sudden burn of a blade slipping into his stomach before he can move. The man beneath him pulls his small dagger out of Yusuf's stomach and gives a half-hearted shove at his sword hand. In answer, Yusuf thrusts his sword down into the man’s neck and watches with awe at the arch of bright crimson blood that spurts from his throat and into the air.

He man beneath him twitches and gurgles, body jerking weakly as the life bleeds out from him in glorious crimson waves that soak into his clothes. Yusuf stays perched above the man's hips, watching in quiet fascination as the color spreads. He reaches down, wetting his palm in the liquid. It feels almost holy, to touch such a vital part of his soulmate. 

A sudden twist of pain makes Yusuf press his wet hand against his own wound, which has begun to bleed as well. He rolls off his dying soulmate and onto his back, realizing that his own wound is a fatal one. With a groan, Yusuf turns his head and looks over at the man lying beside him. His soulmate has left him, his eyes blankly stare at some far off point and his skin is speckled with lovely flecks of red. Even in death, the man beside him is beautiful.

What a horrible thing, to have to kill his soulmate. What a wonderful thing, that his soulmate killed him back. 

It is easy for Yusuf to picture the life they wound have led together. Settled in their own home, tending to animals and working alongside each other. Sleeping in their own bed and sharing each meal with each other, celebrating with each other as color after color would have slowly entered their lives. Would it have been playful, an almost-contest to see who saw what color first, or would the discovery of each new shade been a moment of tender affection?

Of all the colors that Yusuf could have seen before he died, he's thankful that he saw such a bright, vibrant one as red. The memory of it flecked in his love's already-red hair is one he'll treasure.

As he dies, Yusuf wonders what color the other man saw, when they locked eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Yusuf wakes again, with a number of revelations.

The most pressing is that he woke at all; stomach betraying no evidence of the wound that killed him. Under his hands his own skin is as smooth and unscarred as it was this morning, almost as if the attack never happened. He is also surprised to learn that blood is a darker color when it has dried, no longer a bright red but so dark it becomes almost another color.

He lifts himself up from the ground with a huff, gasping in a breath as he looks around him. Night has fallen on the field, the desert littered with dead men and horses. In the distance, Yusuf can see the slight red tint of campfires in the distance, too far away to tell if they belong to his own people, or the invaders.

Feeling is returning slowly to Yusuf’s limbs, a rush of pin-prick bites in his arms and legs as he flexes and stretches his body. His mind is a bit slower to follow, only realizing the gravity of the situation after he’s taken nearly a hundred breaths.

He’s alive.

Unhurt and without pain, with only the dark-red-and-some-other-color blood on his clothes and hands remaining to give any sign he was hurt at all. He begins to mutter a prayer of thanks for this miracle, but the sound of a sudden wheezing breath startles him. Yusuf turns towards the sound, stunned back into silence at the sight.

His soulmate, coming back to life on the red-stained sand. The other man jerks as life pours back into him, hands grabbing at his own throat. Yusuf watches in alarm, desperate to sooth the man’s distress but unsure of his presence would help or hurt. So he keeps his distance, watching as his soulmate eventually gathers his strength and sits up, his wild gaze settling on Yusuf.

The silence between them is heavy, the promise of violence still humming in the air between them. Yusuf’s blade lies between them on the sand, the other man’s sword also within their reach. For Yusuf, the thought of ever raising a hand against his soulmate is abhorrent so he reaches out with a gentle hand to beckon the man forward.

“What color?” He asks, hoping that his urgency communicates beyond language. After all, this man above any other in the world was meant to understand him in every way. They were born for each other. “Please, you must tell me what color you saw.”

The first meeting of a soulmate is the first introduction to color in one's life. This initial shade serves as a marker of a soul bond, with more colors emerging the deeper the bond with the soulmate. A soulmate couple will eventually be able to see the whole world in full color. According to the poets, the first color seen in a bond is one of high importance; Yusuf is not sure what it bodes that the first he saw was his soulmate's blood.

His soulmate blinks at him and shakes his head, lips pursed against whatever words he feels. Yusuf grabs onto the man’s hand, shocking him enough to make him meet his gaze. “Red.” Yusuf says gently, urging the man to understand. He reaches out with a gentle hand to take a lock of hair between his fingers, tucking the strand behind the other man’s ear.

“Red.” He repeats, lowering his hand to brush across his soulmate’s cheek. The touch makes the man shiver and Yusuf relishes the sight of more red spreading across his cheeks and nose as he blushes.

Yusuf hand moves lower, to the flaking layer of blood that still covers his love’s neck and face. He runs a finger across where his blade cut through the other man’s skin and repeats himself.

“Red.”

His soulmate is trembling now, an expression between anguish and relief on his face. He pulls his hand gently out of Yusuf’s grasp, avoiding his gaze. Yusuf watches him, nearly breathless in anticipation at the thought of hearing his soulmate’s voice.

The man clears his throat and reaches out to touch the hem of the padded tunic Yusuf wears underneath his lamellar breastplate. He tugs on the fabric and speaks in an accent that Yusuf can faintly remember from the market at his home. The rapture of hearing his soulmate’s voice nearly distracts Yusuf from what he actually said, but he tries his best to repeat the word as he heard it.

He must not do a good job, as his soulmate repeats the word with more emphasis. Yusuf attempts again, but his soulmate sighs, mutters something else to himself, and pulls a bit away from Yusuf. With a meaningful look, he traces his hand through the red-and-something-else sand in a wave pattern, undulating lines that look like the sea. He points at the drawing as speak again, this time another word.

“Ocean?” Yusuf asks, miming the up and down movement of a wave with his hand. His soulmate nods emphatically, saying a word that must mean the sea in his own language. Excited by this victory they parrot each other, working to craft the other’s language with their own mouths.

Yusuf must eventually say ‘sea’ well enough to appease his soulmate, who smiles widely when he speaks it the final time. The love that Yusuf feels for this man blooms inside him like a sunrise; he’d do anything to make him smile like that again.

“The sea.” He says, receiving another nod from his soulmate. Yusuf reaches back down to his jerkin and asks. “Blue?” His soulmate pauses to think and then nods, reaching out to touch the jerkin as well and saying the first word he spoke again. The understanding makes Yusuf feel as giddy as a child and he chants ‘blue’ over and over in both his native tongue and his soulmate’s. Eventually, with a fine red blush making even his ears glow red, his soulmate begins to repeat after him too.

Motivated by this sudden communication success, Yusuf decides to be bold. He points at his chest and slowly says his own name. He repeats it again, then looks expectantly over at his soulmate. The man blinks at him, brow furrowed in concentration. He repeats the words. To hear his soulmate say his name back to him makes chills run down Yusuf’s spine.

He listens with rapt attention as the other man says his own name, relishing the way it feels on his lips and tongue as he repeats it.

“Nicoló.”

His soulmate nods in confirmation and Yusuf grins. They repeat their shared words together, ‘sea’, and ‘blue’, and ‘red’ and ‘Yusuf’ and ‘Nicoló'. A small collection of words, an even-smaller collection of colors, but enough to begin with. Enough to start.


	3. Chapter 3

All thoughts of the war behind them, Nicoló and Yusuf begin to walk. With no destination in mind, they put the battlefield behind them and start their journey to wherever they’re going on foot. They walk mostly in silence. Nicoló seems to be a man of few words, though Yusuf delights in his presence as much as his voice. They follow each other in the day and make camp together at night, whispering together the same few words they have in common before they sleep like a prayer.

It’s a comfortable silence, and as they walk Yusuf ponders over the tongue his soulmate speaks. He’s certain he’s heard it before, in the wash of words and accents that had filled the port of his home. Yusuf’s always had an ear for language and a mind for puzzles, so it becomes a game that occupies him as they walk, tossing out different words to Nicoló as he tries to find the right one.

Nicoló seems to enjoy their sport, flashing a charming smile at each suggestion and shaking his head. When Yusuf finally guesses right, some Ligurian dialect tinged and warped by trade, the few scrubby trees that line their path explode in a sudden burst of green.

Yusuf knows the stories - colors grow within a bond the closer the two soulmates become, until each of them are able to see the world in full. It excites him, that their sudden bond is already growing stronger. Nicoló does not seem to begrudge him this new color, listening with patient and affectionate ears as Yusuf waxes poetic about the color of the leaves and the hint of green that lurks in Nicoló’s eyes.

It surprises him, that people and things can be made up of so many colors at once. It seems as nothing it just one color - not skin or eyes or even dirt or sky. Yusuf feels as though he’s been let in on a secret, leaving him ravenous to see more.

Now able to speak with much more ease, their journey takes on a more familiar tone. Most of their conversation is in Nicoló’s language, though he is always eager for the Arabic lessons Yusuf will give him when they eat their evening meals together. His soulmate is clearly an educated man, learning each new word with a scholar's devotion.

Their discussions during the day are practical ones - what they should restock with at the next market they pass, whether they should continue to travel by land or take to the sea, trading possible destinations they could end up. But at night, things often take on a more personal theme. Nicoló tells him that before the Crusade he was a priest, and before that he was one son in a line of many others, sent out into the world to make his own way. He can farm the land and shape wood into tools, tells Yusuf that once his father had struck him when he refused to kill a goat that had been too hurt to mend.

Yusuf tells of his own background, of the crowded home he was raised in. He speaks about following his father to the docks, of watching his sisters mend clothes and sing, of the call to prayer that would echo between the buildings of his village and the pages of parchment and ink that he used to draw.

This new closeness begins to manifest in other places as well. Hand clasped together sometimes as they walk, heads leaning on shoulders when they rest. After so long of being touched with violent hands, to feel such tenderness soothes something in Yusuf.

“It is strange to me sometimes, this bond we share.” Nicoló admits one night, face pressed against Yusuf’s chest as he lies in the other man’s arms. “When I took my vows, color was something that I swore away. An indulgence that I should be able to live without.”

Yusuf hums, pulling Nicoló in tighter against him as the other man continues speaking. “I is as though I have been set adrift. I have nothing to hold on to now, except you.”

Yusuf can understand that feeling.

It is strange, to be thrust out into the world with nothing to hold on to except each other. The way that they met is a part of that as well; to switch from violence to the opposite all in the same day is dizzying. They’ve been journeying together for nearly a month, resupplying at different villages as they continue on their quest for…something.

He shifts them so they lie beside each other, Yusuf looking across at Nicoló and his red-tinged hair. He knows that no matter what other colors they’ll discover, red will always be Yusuf’s favorite. Nicoló stares back at him and reaches out a hand, which Yusuf quickly takes.

“Is that enough?” Yusuf asks him, struck by the sudden vulnerability in his own voice. There’s a second question being posed, apparent to both of the men. Will it be enough?

Nicoló holds his gaze with a steadiness that Yusuf marvels at. “Yes.”

Yusuf lets out an exhale that shakes his frame, wrapping both of his hands around Nicoló’s. “I feel that what has happened to us is something remarkable.” He says. “I know that every lover thinks they are the first to feel such things, but with us…it truly seems like we are the only two men who have ever existed, to ever have cared for each other the way that we do.”

Nicoló smiles over at him, lacing their fingers together. “I feel the same.” He says. “It seems as if I am finally seeing things the way they are meant to be seen. We’ve come so far from Jerusalem, but at times it is as if the smoke from the field still blinds me.”

“It is hard to find God on the battlefield.” Yusuf agrees.

“I think I was looking for him there.” Nicoló admits. “I was told that was our purpose, our duty. They were wrong, though. But now I don’t know where to find Him.”

“I am not a man without my doubts.” Yusuf says. “Even before we met I felt lost. We had been fighting for months and nothing had changed. A siege is an easy place to lose yourself, but the fact that I found such goodness in all that ruin, it gives me my faith again.”

Nicoló’s face twists into a pained expression. “You always say such beautiful things, as if we met in some sunny field together. I cut you open until your guts ran out. I hurt you so terribly and you speak to me as if I am some lovely thing.”

“I hurt you.” Yusuf counters. “I split your throat open and watched the light and the blood both drain from you. But I say lovely things to you because that is how you make me feel. I hope you don’t think those feelings are false.”

“No, I believe you.” He assures him. “But…I am not the man that the Crusades made me, Yusuf. I promise. I just-I am better than that. I will be better to you, I swear it.”

“Oh, I trust you, Nicoló.” Yusuf says earnestly. “I swear to you that I do.”

Nicoló’s eyes go wide at that, hands suddenly trembling in Yusuf’s grip.

“Oh!”

“What is it?” Yusuf asks, moving to sit up as Nicoló does. To his surprise, the other man nearly launches himself into his laps, hands reaching up to wind into his hand.

“Oh, you have a handsome head of black curls.” Nicoló announces, giddy with the discovery. Yusuf basks in the joy of Nicoló’s new color, smiling as the other man pets through his hair. “And the beginnings of a fine black beard.” His hands move down to cup Yusuf’s face, his fingers tracing the stubble that grows across his cheeks. The touch is light and tickles some, which makes Yusuf laugh. Nicoló seems to delight in the sound and runs a hand back and forth along his jawline to make Yusuf laugh again. That same sunrise feeling of love from before blooms inside Yusuf and he looks up at Nicoló and asks the question that’s been lurking in his throat for days.

“May I kiss you?”

Nicoló flushes that same delightful red he always does and nods, winding an arm about Yusuf’s neck as the two press their lips together. The touch thrills Yusuf, who pulls Nicoló in closer against him. It feels like coming home, to touch and kiss Nicoló like this.

“To think, in the midst of all that death and fire, we found each other.” Yusuf breathes, looking at the man he’s holding with wonder. “That is a gift from God.”

“We died.” Nicoló adds. “And in all that death, woke again. Does that not frighten you?”

Holding Nicoló in his arms now, Yusuf cannot comprehend that he ever laid violent hands on this man. He stares at him, his fine red hair and his sun-parched skin. Men don’t wake from wounds in the stomach or cuts to their throats, yet here they are, awake and alive and together. There can be no fear in Yusuf, not in the face of all this care.

“The next town we arrive at, we should stay.” Yusuf says. “I want to give you a bed to rest your head on a night. I want to give you land to work and animals to care for.”

“I want to give you a quiet place to pray.” Nicoló answers back, leaning down to kiss Yusuf again. “Paper to draw on and good food to eat and a place where you will always feel safe.”

The wish of a full life was one that seemed far away when they first met, but as they doze together under a sky that Nicoló tells him is a rich and inky black, Yusuf thinks that it might finally be within their reach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading! i'd love it if you'd drop any fic requests you might have in the comments

Yusuf is pulled from a deep sleep by the feeling of Nicoló stirring in his arms. Unwilling to relinquish the other man’s warmth or presence, Yusuf mouths at the back of his neck and nuzzles the skin there, pulling the other man closer against him. “My love.” He sighs. “Don’t go.” 

"The sun is up, Yusuf.” Nicoló grumbles good-naturedly, though he does nothing to pull away from the other man’s embrace. This is a promising sign, one that might mean Yusuf could convince Nicoló to stay in bed this morning instead of starting his chores.

Determined to press this apparent advantage, Yusuf slots himself closer against Nicoló’s back. Hooking his chin over his shoulder, he presses a few quick kisses to his neck. “I think it is still rising.” He hums into the other man’s ear, nipping at the spot below Nicoló ear that he knows makes the other man shiver. Just as he expected, Yusuf can feel the other man relax in his arms.

“Up. It is up. I can see it.” Nicoló counters. Yusuf is about to continue on, but the call of goats hungry for their morning feeding interrupts him. Nicoló huffs at the sound and slips out of Yusuf’s arms. Still half-asleep, he listens as Nicoló dips his hands into their water basin and scrubs his face. Even with his eyes closed, Yusuf can track Nicoló through the room as he pads around quietly and dresses for the day.

Face still mostly buried in his pillow, Yusuf opens one eye to look up at his love. Nicoló’s red hair shines in the sunlight that has begun to peak through their window. Dressed in his farming clothes and wearing a ridiculously floppy hat meant to shield his face from the sun, he is the most beautiful thing that Yusuf has ever seen.

“Come back to bed.” He calls, lifting his arm out from the blanket to beckon Nicoló back over towards him. “I’ve not given you a proper good morning.” Aiming his most seductive gaze towards Nicoló he adds huskily. “I’ll even let you keep the hat on, if you’d like.”

That makes Nicoló laugh, rolling his eyes as he picks up his shoes. “You know I have to see to the goats.” He counters, sitting back on their bed pull on his boots. Now that he’s close enough to touch again, Yusuf reaches out to trace his hand up and down Nicoló’s back and he works to tie up his laces. Bent over as he is, Yusuf is able to run his fingers up and down the individual knobs of Nicoló’s spine.

“Do you love the goats more than you love me?” He asks.

Nicoló turns and reaches back to pet through Yusuf’s curls, scratching at his scalp. He purrs underneath the other man’s touch, reaching out to hold onto his arm, rubbing his thumb across the delicate bone of Nicoló’s wrist. He knows that the thin veins that snake under the warm skin that he touches are blue, because one night Nicoló had told him so, the same night that Yusuf had described how that same blood looks spilled outside of the body, a bright and deep red.

“Blue and red.” Nicoló had mused that night, head pillowed on Yusuf’s chest. “Both the color of that which gives us life.” He had twined their fingers, pressed a kiss to Yusuf’s knuckles “I think that is a good omen for us.”

That fond memory makes Yusuf think back to the latest colors they’ve discovered, a yellow thread pattern in the blanket they share for Yusuf and the white of their interior walls for Nicoló, found after an impassioned christening of the bed frame that Yusuf had built for them. A joyous night for many reasons, and to Yusuf’s pride, the frame had proven to be remarkably study.

“Yusuf.” Nicoló says, voice warm with affection but tinged by duty. “I love you very much, but the goats need their breakfast.”

Knowing that he’s lost this fight but still unwilling to admit defeat, Yusuf sighs dramatically and lets go of Nicoló arm, burying himself back under their blanket. “What a trial it is, to love a farmer.” He says mournfully. “No sane man would leave a warm bed for dirt and some goats.”

Always in good humor, Nicoló leans down to press a kiss to Yusuf’s cheek before getting off the bed. “If you can bear to wait, I shall be back before too long.” Yusuf grins at that, listening as Nicoló walks out of their room, through their kitchen, and out of their back door. Rolling over to Nicoló’s side of the bed, Yusuf hums to himself as he settles.

He has a rare day to himself, not needed at the carpentry shop he’s found employment at since they’ve settled here. In celebration, Yusuf has elaborate plans; a long morning in bed (hopefully with Nicoló returning shortly to join him), perhaps followed by a swim in the river. Lost in a drowsy half-dream about cool water and the fine lines of Nicoló’s chest and shoulders and back, Yusuf luxuriates in the simple, fruitful life that the two have made for themselves.

They had kept their promise to each other, settling down in the next town their journey took them too. Yusuf’s charming smile and Nicoló’s bartering skills had earned them an old farmhouse on the edges of town, a simple and private place for the two of them to rest their heads. They had swept out the floors and washed the walls, mended the fence that lined their property and began work on a garden.

Compared to the chaos of battle and the hovering uncertainty of travel, the life that the two of them have made together is bliss. Yusuf walks into town each day to work his trade and Nicoló tends to their land, trading the excess food that they grow at the local market for other goods. They fall asleep and wake in each other’s arms, starting and ending each day together.

It is a type of peace that Yusuf never thought he’d know, to lie in a bed that he built with his own hands, the scent of Nicoló still in his nose. It is nearly enough to lull him back to sleep, but the screams of the goats jolts Yusuf out of his half-awake state. The confusion he feels morphs into panic when the cry is followed by the scream of a man. Mind and heart racing and dressed in nothing but his long nightshirt, Yusuf grabs his scimitar from where it sits propped against their bedroom wall and rushes out of their door.

“Nicoló?” He calls out frantically. “Nicoló!”

There is no answer to his yell besides the continued commotion of the animals and Yusuf runs towards the direction of their goat pen. In his haste, Yusuf nearly trips over the body of a dead man, slumped against the fence of the their goat pen.

Panic threatens to overwhelm him at the sight, but Yusuf leans on his training to keep himself steady. Fear will do nothing but harm him if it robs him of his focus. Yusuf looks down at the man, a stranger dead from a vicious strike that sliced open his abdomen. It appears that his own sword is what killed him, the blade lying stained with red on the sand beside the body. Nicoló’s farmer hat lies on the ground close by, also speckled with drops of bright red blood.

Yusuf knows immediately what has occurred, can almost see it playing out in front of him. Nicoló must have been surprised on his way to their barn to fetch the hay for the goats, and his fierce soulmate had killed the man who had attacked him with his own sword. It’s clear there must have been some sort of struggle, as Yusuf can see the man’s severed ear a bit farther off on the sand.

The goats are frantic in their wooden pen, screaming over the commotion and the scent of blood in the air, but Yusuf barely hears them over the sound of his own racing thoughts. It’s clear that something has gone wrong, but if Nicoló had killed this man, why wasn’t he answering Yusuf’s calls?

As he looks out over their yard, Yusuf’s attention is drawn to their small barn. The wooden door has been thrown open violently, hanging off of the hinges. The sight makes dread curdle in Yusuf’s gut as he walks towards it with his blade raised and ready. He cannot see inside the building and cannot hear any movement coming from within, though there is a blood trail that leads from the yard and into the doorway.

Stepping into the barn, Yusuf is assaulted by the cloyingly thick scent of coppery blood once he enters. To his left are two stalls, empty because he and Nicoló have no large animals to store there. The right side of the barn is left open, farming tools and hay stacked against the walls, which is where he finds Nicoló, unsteady on his feet and clutching at a gaping wound in his stomach.

Yusuf lets out a frantic cry at the sight, throwing down his weapon as he rushes to his love’s side. The other man looks up at the noise, pain-glazed eyes sharpening in fear as he yells out a warning.

“Yusuf!"

The creak of wood from somewhere behind him makes Yusuf whirl around, locking eyes with a second man just in time to feel the bite of his blade slash down across his face.

Pain overwhelms his vision as he falls limply onto the floor of the barn, senseless to anything else. This is nothing like the death he experienced in Jerusalem, sight gone and awareness fading as he blood rushes out of him. Dimly aware of the sounds of a struggle above him, Yusuf supposes that there are few better places to welcome death than at the feet of the man he loves.

For a while, there is nothing. But in a heavy darkness that Yusuf somehow recognizes as being black, sound begins to drifts back into his focus. Crying and praying, all coming from somewhere above him.

Yusuf opens his eyes and gasps.

He is alive, again, but that fact barely registers as Yusuf looks around and realizes that he can see…everything. The sudden rush of color is almost overwhelming, but all he has eyes for is Nicoló, whose worried face hovers over him. It stuns him, all the various shades of pink and yellow and blue and peach and gray and red that make up Nicoló’s skin.

“You have the sky in your eyes, Nicoló.” Yusuf says when he finally finds his voice, breathless with wonder at the sight. He reaches a hand up to touch Nicoló’s, his fine face covered in blood and hay, but the other man grabs onto his arm and pulls him up into an embrace.

“You’re so lovely!” Nicoló cries. “Look at you, oh-” Nicoló kisses him, trembling in his arms as hard as he had the day they first met. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful.” He gasps, tears cutting through the blood that’s dried onto his face. “I think I died…I woke up and I thought-I thought you’d gone.”

Yusuf can’t stop touching Nicoló, hands fluttering over his shoulders and chest and stomach as he feels for a wound that’s already been healed. To slip free from death once is a blessing, he cannot fathom that they’ve both managed to do so again. Tears stinging in his own eyes, he soothes Nicoló’s cries, petting through his hair. “I’m here.” He assures. “We both are, with not a shade missing between us.”

“It was like a miracle.” Nicoló continues on, arms wrapped tightly around Yusuf’s neck. “You took a breath and the whole world came into color before my eyes.”

Taking Nicoló’s face in his hands, Yusuf asks. “What happened? I heard the scream and…all the blood and thought-” He breaks off and Nicoló pulls Yusuf’s hands into his grip, holding onto him tightly.

“I don’t know if they were thieves or soldiers.” He says, rambling as he recounts what took place. “Two of them, they surprised me. I killed one - I bit his ear off. I was hurt but then he struck you down and took his head off for it. You were already gone…and then I-but then I took a breath and you were still…”

Nicoló shakes his head, taking a steadying breath. “I watched your skin pull itself back together. I saw your bones move, your eyes grow again. It was frightening, Yusuf.” He looks up at him, blue eyes swimming with emotion. “What has happened to us? What have we become? This is not the first time that we’ve…risen again.”

Compared to watching Nicoló gasp back to life on the sands of Jerusalem, the description of his own resurrection sounds horrific. “I do not know.” Yusuf says. “But I will always bless whatever continues to bring you back to me.” He pulls Nicoló in against him. “So long as we are together, nothing else matters.”

Nicoló nods, lifting his head up from Yusuf's chest. "Fate or God or the Devil, some blessing or some curse, whatever it is must be a force of good if it keeps me with you." He kisses Yusuf again. "Perhaps our love is so strong not even death can keep us apart."

Knowing the depth and ferocity of what he feels for Nicoló, Yusuf would not be surprised if this was the truth. It feels like something cosmic, something as real and vast as the ocean, as the air, as the sky. How could something as simple as death ever hope to break up such a bond? 

"If we anchor each other to this world, then I do not believe we will ever leave it." He tells Nicoló, pulling each of them to their feet. "Or if we do, we shall leave it together."

Nicoló nods, reaching out and gently touching the bloodstained fabric of Yusuf's nightshirt with reverent hands, watching with fascination as it stains the tips of his fingers. “This is the color you saw, the first time you looked at me?”

“Your blood is a darker color than your hair, but yes.” Yusuf says, oddly nostalgic for that first meeting. “It was like I could see nothing else, that red was the only thing that held my attention. When we died for the first time, I can remember being happy that our blood was the same color.”

“I understand now why it feels warm when it is spilled.” Nicoló adds, rubbing the blood between his fingers. “It looks like the color of heat, of how fire feels.”

“It is." Yusuf tells him. "And the color of that heat you feel in your cheeks and ears when I praise or kiss you." Yusuf quickly kisses the tip of Nicoló's nose to prove his point. "But if red is heat, then the blue of your eyes is how cool water feels. Like slipping into the river after a day of long work or the feel of the rain on parched land."

"You've always had such a way with words." Nicoló says, smiling. "Such a poet, even over such grisly matters." 

For the first time since Yusuf entered the barn, he feels like he can breathe again. He glances around them, at his discarded sword and the bloody dirt, of the body of the dead man at their feet. Yusuf is sure that the two of them must look like ghouls, sticky with dried blood and covered in dust and hay. Hands clasped together, they exit the barn and stand in the yard.

There are even more colors here than inside the barn - endless expanses of blue sky, the weathered yellow-brown stone of their home, the nearly-white light of the sun shining above them. Nicoló seems just as stunned by all the color around them, eyes wide as he takes it all in. He catches sight of the body still slumped against the fence, but Yusuf stops him before he can go towards it.

"Later." Yusuf tells him, pulling him towards the river that flows on the edge of their property. "First, let us clean ourselves. Wash away all this death. It doesn't suit us." 

"And then?" Nicoló asks, ever-practical and ever-worried for their animals.

"Then, I will bring you back to bed, hold you tightly, and we shall count all of the new colors that we see when we get there." Yusuf tells him. "We should spent the first moments of this gift on beautiful things."

Nicoló nods in head in agreement, tossing his red hair as he follows Yusuf towards the water. With the whole world now displayed in full color around Yusuf, he is sure that none of it will ever compare to red.


End file.
